Closet

a victim of the multiple offences of this world, a few I share guilt others I own innocence, devoid of edges of any sort. My burden is one of insides I have grown into a man I must look down on. Institutions drove me here Sitting, reminiscing on a past Seeking its entry in the present There is non. I turn to love A deceitful constant in my existence It always failed, my constant failure I scream to family a pill to my woes Its dosage never sufficient Shadowed disease’s victory ever in sight I look to tears Ease my lingering burden But my tears is a coward I have learned to respect My one true offense is a gift Of nature